Hello, readers!?I'm back with a new story. It's a new style for me so I hope I haven't failed!Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story of Lotus Bryce, a simple village girl in 1645. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I sit on the rocking chair by the fire, attempting to make Jasmine a new dress. It doesn't work, and I end up stowing it in my trunk of unfinished work for Jasmine and Gale. My mother enters the room carrying a plate of cheese from our goat and some bread from the bakery bins. I gasp when I see the bread, it's so perfect and warm, why would anybody throw it away? But I decide not to question it, food is hard to come by for us, so anything we get is a special treat. Every day, I go to the market and sell the milk from our cow. I occasionally go into the woods and set traps for rabbits and deer. My mother hands me the end of the loaf and a bit of cheese. I use my finger to spread the cheese onto the bread, then take a large bite. The cheese has melted into the bread, and it's still hot from the oven. My body warms immediately and I can tell that I won't need an extra layer of clothing tonight. My mother hands some to Gale, then trots off into the bedroom to find Jasmine. Me and Gale munch our bread in silence until our mother comes running back into the room. "He's here!" She shrieks, and we all rush into the bedroom and look out the window. We can see an array of black horses galloping into the village square, where a set of gallows has been placed. My mother turns to me. "Look at me, Lotus. You have to get out of here, OK? In the morning, I want you to grab your stuff and go. The Witch Finder General has no mercy, alright?" I nod slowly, still trying to process it all. Last week, I had been accused of witchcraft, along with my best friend, Melanie. Matthew Hopkins had been called into the town, as the priest still thought there were more witches to find. Matthew Hopkins - Witch Finder General - tortures his victims until they confess. He doesn't let them sleep, and has them on their feet constantly. What my mother is telling me is completely against the law, but I don't have another choice. I have food in my satchel that I am to take with me. I must travel light. I stare at the wall, thinking about what would happen if I were caught.
I walk out of the bedroom and back into the front room. I stare around at the place that has been my home for fifteen years. The thought of leaving my sister and brother behind was unbearable. My mother can barely walk to the market and my sister is too scared to hunt. As for Gale, he's the only hope of survival my family has. We all knew this moment would come, the day I was accused. My mother was accused when she was my age and was tortured into confessing. However, she remained strong, and made it home with the bottom half of her left leg missing, but all charges cleared. She is the first person in history to ever escape a witch's fate. I would never be that strong. I would have to give in. I think about my escape. Where will I go? I decide to head east, away from Dorset, towards London. Maybe I will meet somebody who can empathise, who can travel with me on my quest to find asylum. I think of Melanie, and how she has no chance of escape. Her mother is dangerously sick and Melanie is all the latter has. I think of my other best friend, Richard. I think of how he would feel if I left him. But I have no choice, he'll understand, won't he? I'll go to his house tomorrow before I leave. I go into the bedroom and pack what little possessions I have. My bag holds only three more dresses, five hair bands, a crucifix necklace and a bottle of perfume my mother bought from London. I settle down on my bed - a stack of hay and a blanket - and try to sleep. I can hear Jasmine weeping faintly, but I'm convinced Gale fell asleep straight away. I hear my mother clanging pots and pans in the front room and I can only hope they'll be able to feed themselves while I'm gone. I fall into a strange dream, where I am being executed. My mother, Gale and Jasmine aren't in village square. I look over everybody's heads and see my small home, curtains drawn and smoke coming from the chimney. At least they are eating, I think. I wake with a start at the sound of my name. "Lotus! Lotus! Come on! The Witch Finders are asleep, now's your chance!" I hear my mother say quietly into my ear. I sit up and see that Jasmine and Gale are still asleep. Once dressed, I kiss them both on the forehead. My mother hugs me and I head out the door with my satchel. First stop, Richard's house, I think to myself. I walk across the village square and try not to look at the gallows. If I am caught, I'll end up here. Like my dream ... Or should I say ... Nightmare.
Richard lives just across the square, and I'm knocking on his door in a matter of minutes. Fortunately, he is an early riser, and he answers the door. There's never been anything between us, but I don't hesitate when he opens his arms out wide. I quietly sob into his muscular chest as he strokes my hair. "Shhh," he instructs me. "Your mother told me of your plan, and I won't try and stop you," "Thank you," I tell him, because him in the way would make this a lot harder. "I'll write you," he promises. We embrace for a few minutes, then I let go. He kisses the top of my head and I turn to leave. The village is deserted at this hour, and I'm free to walk at whatever pace I feel. I decide to walk slowly, as I'm in no rush to leave. Soon, I'm standing beside the tavern at the edge of the village. I stare towards the hills and know that I have a long, hard journey ahead of me. The dust from the country lane covers my black boots, turning them a sort of slate colour. I think of my mother, unable to support Jasmine, and Gale setting the traps that I normally do in the forest. I think of Richard: his soft, brown hair, emerald eyes. No, I tell myself, You must not think of them. Leave them behind. Shut them out! By noon, I'm in the small village of Boarstall. I walk slowly through the town until I come across a large manor house. I sit on the ground outside the gate, eating a slice of the leftover bread from last night. Suddenly, out of nowhere, comes a girl about my age, her dirty blond hair tied back, carrying a basket of groceries. She eyes me for a minute, then her eyes widen. "You," her voice trembles. "You're Lotus Bryce, daughter of Fleur Bryce. You've escaped Mr Hopkins, you 'ave!" I nod in reply. "You best come in, then. We don't want anybody findin' ya, now do we?" She gestures me forward and walks through the gate of the manor. I can tell by her ragged clothes that she doesn't live in the house, but she works here. "I'm Louisa, by the way, but most people call me Lou." She tells me as we walk up the large hill towards Boarstall House. "I know you're scared, there's a lot o' rumours about the mistress of the 'ouse, but they ain't true, so don't believe 'em!" She has a sort of rough accent that immediately gives me the impression she's from London. "How do you know who I am?" I ask. "How? Everybody knows, don't they? All over the papers, with your mother being who she is. Accused then?" She asks. "Yes," I reply. "I 'aven't been accused. Never will be. People are scared of the mistress, you see? Won't lay a finger on any of 'er servants." "How come?" I ask. "Don't tell me you ain't been 'earing the rumours? You see, mistresses mother was a witch, a real one. She fessed up an' all. People are scared me mistress is a witch, but because of the things her mother did, nobody dare put it past 'er. Last person who did ended up seriously poorly!" "Wow," is all I say. We walk in silence for a few more minutes, and just as I've finished my bread, we reach the door of Boarstall House. Louisa then leads me round a corner to the side of the house, where a rickety wooden door stands ajar. "Servants entrance," she says. She leads me through the door into a warm kitchen. The room has a safe feel to it. A pot burns above the fire, and a plump old woman stands at a counter, chopping tomatoes, a luxury we can never afford. "Mrs B, this is Lotus. Ya know? Lotus Bryce. Told ya she'd be accused!" Announces Louisa. The woman looks up at me and smiles. "Hello, m'dear!" She has the voice of a kindly woman and rushes forward. She kisses my cheek. "Sorry to hear." "It's fine," I tell her. "Well, let's get you washed and changed!" She feels my left arm. "Blimey! You're a skinny one, best get you fed as well, if you're traveling. Lou, you get the spare blankets, she can sleep with you in the scullery. I'll run the water for a scrubbing." "Thank you!" I smile as best as I can. "It's fine, m'love. By the way, I'm Mrs Bersham," "Pleasure to meet you!"
Louisa places her basket on the counter and scurries out of the room. Mrs Bersham picks up an apple from the basket and begins examining it. She turns the bruised fruit in hand until Louisa comes back in. "Where did you get these?" Mrs Bersham asks in her thick Scottish accent. "A little old lady down the Yule, she needed the money for 'we grand kids," Louisa replies. "What's the Yule?" I ask. "Poor area of the village. People down there are starving all the time. Some occasionally kill the farmer's cows to make beef, even though it's illegal. Bless 'em," replied Mrs Bersham. I think of my village, and how people starve there. I decide that I need to visit this Yule. Mrs Bersham puts the apple back in the whicker basket and walks out the room. Me and Louisa stand in silence for a moment then she hands me a less bruised apple. "Thanks," I say. "Don't mention it," she replies. After about five minutes, we hear Mrs Bersham shout my name from another room. Me and Louisa entered what was obviously the scullery, and a large, aluminium tub stood in the middle of the room, full to the brim on hot, soapy water. I begin to strip quickly and climb into the tub. There is just enough room for me to sit with my legs bent. I scrub myself with a brush and pour a jug of water over my head. My blond hair suddenly turns a dark brown and my skin is considerably lighter than before. After shaking myself, I step out onto the cold stone floor of the scullery. I stand shivering for a moment before Mrs Bersham hands me a soft, white towel. I wrap myself in it for a few minutes before getting dressed. I take one of the spare dresses from my satchel and pull it over my head, then cloth soft on my clean skin. I walk back into the kitchen and Mrs Bersham sits me on a small rocking chair by the fire. I think of my rocking chair back home. No, I think, Don't think of home! I take another slice of bread from my satchel and eat it in silence. I look out the window and see the darkening sky. "Mrs Bersham?" I ask. "Yes?" She replies. "Where is the Yule?" "Just down the hill. Why?" "I'd like to visit. See what it's like." "Sure, thing. We could go now if you want. It'll only just be dark when we get back." "OK," I say and grab my satchel. Mrs Bersham leads me out the servants entrance, down the hill and out the gates. Under the light of the sunset, I can see that Mrs Bersham is wearing a black cloak tied at the bottom of her neck, and the hood up. "Keep your head down, dear. We don't want anybody spotting you with the Witch Finder General just a few miles away," she says. I obey her and keep my head down, watching mine and Mrs Bershams feet walk along the dusty path.
The small village shops slowly dissolve until we are walking in a lane of small, cramped together houses. Mrs Bersham taps my shoulder and leads me towards the smallest, then knocks on the wooden door. A small old woman answers the door. She is malnourished and supporting herself on what looks like the branch from a tree. "Hello, Elizabeth, dear," says the old lady. "Good evening, Bertha," replies Mrs Bersham. "This is Lotus, she wanted to see what life in the Yule is like." "Of course, my love. Come in," Bertha opens the door wider and as we step inside, I can see that the room is made up of two chairs, a fire place and a wooden table. Six children and a thirty-year-old woman sleep on a pile of hay in the corner. "This is our home," says Bertha. "It's lovely," I say, because it is. The home has a safe feel to it. "Show her what you eat, Bertha," says Mrs Bersham. Bertha takes me over to the wooden table and I see eight pieces of burnt and mouldy bread on the table. "Goodness," I say and reach into my satchel. I take out some of the food my mother left me to take: some raw chicken and a flask of fresh milk. "Thank you," says Bertha. She takes my left hand in both of hers and gives it an appreciative squeeze. When we get back to the house, I sit on the rocking hair and play with my hair. Mrs Bersham doesn't mention anything about our visit to the Yule, because she knows what a terrible experience it was for me. Bertha and I have something in common. We both try our best to support our families, we hate taking food or money from others. I guess all poor or malnourished people are like that, they don't want others to end up like them, so they refuse offers. At around eight o'clock, me and Louisa settle down in the scullery. It's cold, but the extra blankets that were laid out for me compensate. Mrs Bersham lights a candle, then gives me a pen and some parchment. "Don't sign off the letters. Don't mention your location. Incase they've noticed your escape and are intercepting letters." Mrs Bersham warns me. I simply nod and get to work on my first letter to Richard. My hand is shaky at first, but after time it steadies. Richard, I can't stress how sorry I am for leaving. Words can't say how much I miss you. But I can't bring myself to regret the decision I made. I left to keep me, Jas, Gale and my mother alive. Because we both know that anybody who tries to defend me will end up dead. So I guess what I'm trying to say is look after them. Don't let them starve. I've found refuge, and maybe one day, I'll return to Dorset, but only if I make it out of this alive. I will always be your flower. My fingers are sore from holding the pen for so long. Look at Louisa; she's already fast asleep. I look at the candle, it's melting. I grasp the pen once more and start a new letter. Mother, I'm safe and sheltered. But my accommodation won't last long: I don't wish to put anybody else in danger by being in their presence. Tell Jas and Gale I'm fine, and not to worry. We know how Jas gets, try and calm her. The nightmares won't last long; they're not like mine. If I don't come back, then carry on your lives as usual. Richard will help you; Gale knows how to set traps. If for any reason you never see me again, don't jump to the conclusion that my life is over. Assume I am we'll hidden and safe. Destroy this letter once you've read it. Love, Flower. I hope the way that I signed my letters isn't too obvious. I fold them both and place them under my pillow, blow out the candle and go to sleep.
The description is subtle and soft as the petals of a cherry blossom. This story has a sweet, almost heart-warming feel. I wonder what dramas she will face though? Love? Being chased? Being found out? All yet to come.
Good story, nice plot, interesting details, has enough that wasn't in there to make a book one day...just the details are abridged that what can be done in a full page are put into a post, good luck completing the story & I can't wait to read more